Crazier Than You've Ever Been
by zeldazonk
Summary: Trip Fontaine, the golden boy, is jaded and gray. Lux Lisbon is dead, but she's never stopped haunting him.


He knows not to believe in ghosts.  He knows this just as well as he knows not to believe in fairy tale endings; never in his life has he stumbled across one.  It's three o' clock in the morning, and the ghosts are everywhere; shadows dance, mocking him with their blue eyes, crowded teeth. 

At first he blames it on the drugs.  Years of abuse have taken a toll on his state of mind, the fragrant fumes of weed, the sparkling snow of coke, the poison of alcohol.  

But this is real.  The cheap hotel blanket, worn thin and nubby by years of uses he doesn't want to think about, is no shield to the chill of the room.  Like he's heard about from watching reruns of Unsolved Mysteries, his skin begins to crawl.  "Trip Fontaine, you're a crazy fucker," he says to himself.  Inhaling, he tastes peach Schnapps, strawberry lip gloss.  Love's Baby Soft, that teenage fuck-me perfume of the past that can still bring him to his knees.  

When he thinks of how things used to be, it's her face he sees.  The pale skin, the blonde hair flowing down her back.  "You're a stone fox."  Her body in the white virgin's dress, her mouth forming the few words they exchanged.  Trip Fontaine had always been a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy, but after they'd sucked him dry of every last intoxicant, all he wished for was the chance to redo it, to kiss away her tears and hold her hand, to repair her broken body and broken heart.  Lux Lisbon and Trip Fontaine, the Homecoming Queen and King from teenage Hell, both of them fucked up beyond belief.  

Ghost girl.  She laughs, materializes, sits weightlessly upon the bed.  "Hey, Trip, remember me?" With a fragile hand, he could break it if it were made of flesh and bone and not of whatever ghosts are made of, she brushes that golden cascade out of her face.  She hasn't aged, silly of him to think she would.  "You look old.  I never thought the golden boy would age." 

He studies her face, looking for something grotesque to verify that she isn't of this world, but there's nothing to betray that fact.  Her face is as perfect as it was the last time he saw her, her mouth pink, her eyes blue but lacking the warmth and sparkle they once possessed.  God, she was young.  "Hey, Trip, why aren't you talking? Are you scared?"

"Are you scared?" She whispered to him, running her little hands with their pale pink bitten nails down his shirt.  "Are you scared of me, because I'm a Lisbon girl? Because my sister killed herself? Are you scared of me, Trip?"   
The wet football field underneath them, grass stains on her white dress.  Every high school boy's wet dream, fooling around with the pretty sister, half-drunk on Schnapps and half-drunk on her.  "Do you love me, Trip?"  

"Who. . .who are you?" That's the only thing he can think to say, even though he knows exactly who she is.  Like he could forget.      
"Who am I? Trip, haven't you thought of me every day since I died? I'm dead, Trip.  But that doesn't mean I'm not around.  I can see pretty much anything I want, go wherever I feel like going." She grins.  "What are you thinking, Trip Fontaine?"

"Why?"  
"Why what? Why did we kill ourselves? Why am I here? Why did I choose you?"   
Trip nods.  He isn't shaking any longer, now the room has grown warm with her presence.  

"Who cares anymore? Aren't we part of the past now?" _Please stop smiling at me, Lux.  _"I can hear your thoughts. It's one of the benefits of being dead.  Am I making you uncomfortable, Trip? I thought you were the coolest guy in school, nothing could shake you up." She's mocking him.  _Stop it, stop it!  You think I'm not paying for what I did to you? _

"Are you really paying, Trip?" Her eyes are seawater blue, not exactly beautiful when he thinks about it.  "I mean, sure, you spent all those years in unhappy marriages, you slut, and then your stint in rehab, I bet that was fun.  But you're not dead."

"Close." He wonders why his throat is so dry, why Lux's lips are so wet.  "I'm crazy."

"I don't think I missed much, not living on this hopeless earth, but I'm dead and you're alive.  Did you ever really care about me, Trip?"  
_More than you'll ever know.  You were the only girl I ever wanted, Lux Lisbon.  I dreamed about you, you drove me nuts.  You're the thing I think about before I fall asleep, and when  I read about suicides in the newspaper, and when the doctor asks me what I'm feeling today.  He knows all about you.  He says it's not my fault.  It is, though, isn't it, Lux?_

"It's not your fault.  Not totally.  I wanted to die.  But you know something, Trip? You were the last thing I thought about when I took my last breath.  Oh, I know, so dramatic.  The truth can be."

"What do you want from me?"  
Her eyebrows arch and she reveals her teeth in a slow smile.  Her eyes are cold, glinting.  "I want you to kiss me." 

Part of him recoils in horror.  What would it be like to kiss a ghost? But he feels her gossamer touch and tastes the strawberry poison of her lip gloss, and then the strangest feeling.  "Thanks, Trip." Lux says into his mouth, he can feel the reverberations of her voice in his whole body.  His body grows featherlight, his eyes begin to close.  "Tomorrow you'll wake up and I'll still be here, but you won't see me anymore, unless I want you to.  I'm gonna drive you crazy, Trip Fontaine, crazier than you've ever been before.  You let me in." 


End file.
